


Salvation

by butnotquite



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:32:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butnotquite/pseuds/butnotquite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camelot has existed in many ways throughout the ages. Queen Guinevere, King Arthur, Merlin, and Morgana live in the 21st century, and they remember all their past lives. But this time, it is the Queen who holds the power. Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

She sat in the nearly-empty coffee shop, cradling a rather oversized cup in her hands, her delicate fingers unable to span the width of it. The cup was a creamy ivory, a direct contrast to her own tawny complexion.

She blew on the surface of the steaming liquid in an attempt to cool it down so that she could sip it without scalding her lips. She liked her tea slightly warm, but realized early on that to ask it to be served as such was sacrilege. She has been a frequent enough visitor of this establishment to know that it's owners and patrons took their beverages very seriously—something which she found silly at first, but changed her mind once she tasted their brews.

She checked her watch again. Five minutes to go until her companions arrived. She smiled wryly. Companion was too friendly a word to describe the people she was waiting for, but she supposed it would do as it was not in her nature to be cruel. They had been friends in the past, and she still remembers more innocent times that were full of laughter, and carefree days spent in each other's company. But too much has happened and she has endured too much to think of them—of them all—as anything more than nightmare creatures.

She tucked a long lock of dark hair behind her ear. An innocent gesture, but one that didn't go unnoticed by the only other occupant of the shop.

The young college student had abandoned his readings as soon as she had walked through the door. Like her, he frequented this place-it was quiet, served inexpensive fare, and it was never with people who spoke too loudly. He had watched this woman since he started coming here a few weeks ago. Each time she had been alone with only a book to keep her company; she'd read for an hour-no longer-while nursing her tea.

He knew she was older than his 19 years, but not by much. He would often try to muster the courage to get up and talk to her, but he never found himself to be brave enough. There was something about this woman; something that made you look, made you wonder, made you wish, made you imagine, but also something that told you that if your intentions were less than noble, then you should keep away.

The young man sighed. She carried herself like a queen and he was still too gawky to do more than simply admire. He put the buds of his music player back in his ears and turned back to the forgotten papers that littered the tiny table in front of him.

The woman in question looked up to see two people walk through the door. The man was tall, pale, a little gangly, but with intelligent eyes and a ready smile. The woman beside him was beautiful in a way that can only be described as ethereal. She had porcelain skin, deep red lips (which she knew was without any cosmetic enhancements), and green eyes that looked much too old for her young face. She, too, was smiling.

There was a time when she would have been overjoyed at seeing them. She would have bounded from her chair and enveloped them both in a hug, but those times were gone, and whatever affection she held for them left with the ages, never to come back.

She caught their eye and at once, humor fled their features as they made their way to her table. There was no smile to greet them, and no thawing of her expression. As soon as they were settled in their seats, she sat up a little straighter, lifted her chin ever so slightly, and primly folded her hands in her lap. Her movements were deliberate, and the implications were not lost on the couple who now shared her table.

"Your Majesty," the man greeted her. His voice was quiet, obeisance in his every gesture.

"Queen Guinevere," the woman ducked her head, her bow taking the place of the deep curtsey that she would have wanted to give instead.

The woman with tawny skin lowered her eyes for the barest of moments, her head giving the slightest of bows.

"Morgana, Merlin," she greeted them. "To what do I owe this visit?"


	2. Chapter 2

Guinevere observed as Morgana and Merlin-the two greatest magical beings the world has ever known-exchange worried glances. She found herself not particularly concerned about this exchange. Guinevere knew that she would be driven insane if she were to analyze every thought and gesture that passed between the witch and warlock.

Several moments passed before her question was answered. Guinevere's posture never once wavered, not allowing either Morgana or Merlin the opportunity to see any observable weakness. Time and too many betrayals have forged her in steel, and she was not anyone's to command anymore.

"Your Majesty," Merlin began. "We thank you for granting us an audience."

Guinevere didn't bother to correct the warlock's address of her, but instead gave another nod.

"We have come hoping you will award our request," Merlin's voice wavered, as if he was hesitant to speak.

Guinevere raised an eyebrow and, for the first time, the shadow of a smile flitted across her features.

"What makes you think that I will listen to this request, much less agree to it?"

Her tone made it clear that while she may have looked amused, she found no humor in this conversation.

"Please, Guinevere," Morgana moved to splay her hands palms up on the table. "You are the only one who can save us."

Guinevere looked at Morgana. _'Was she paler than usual?'_

She saw that the witch was now biting her lower lip, worry etched on every line of her body. She was impeccably dressed in expensive, richly-hued clothes that fit her frame perfectly, but even that was not enough to disguise the panic that seemed to emanate from her slim frame.

"You are in no position to ask anything of me, Morgana," Guinevere's tone was even, her voice calm, but there was no mistaking the blade of her words. "And your damnation is not something I worry about."

The witch flinched, her eyes pleading with the woman who had served her faithfully once upon a time, but she knew that there was no friendship between them anymore. Morgana's acts against Guinevere had exhausted whatever affection the Queen had once shown toward her. Never had Morgana felt so alone.

"Guinevere, please," it was Merlin's turn to beg. "Camelot will fall."

"Camelot has fallen many times," Guinevere answered calmly. "Over the ages, in various forms. Why should I care if it falls again?"

"Because this time," Merlin sighed deeply. "This time will be the last."

"That is not of any consequence to me," Guinevere shrugged. She unfolded her hands from her lap and raised one to call the attention of a young server.

She remained silent until after she had paid her bill, saying only thank you to the young woman who took the money and cleared the table. Guinevere saw her trying to sneak glances at each of them, but whether it was her posture or the current of magic that passed through witch and warlock that made her leave quickly, she did not care.

"Albion," Morgana whispered the word.

Guinevere's head snapped around to her.

Seeing that she had her regent's attention, Morgana sat up and squared her shoulders. She looked Guinevere in the eye.

"Albion's destruction will come after the fall."

No emotion was seen on Guinevere's face. She sat quietly, her gaze moving from man to woman.

"We will speak again," she said.

She stood up, collecting the small leather handbag that she had kept on a chair beside her.

Merlin and Morgana followed suit, standing at attention until Guinevere had walked out of the shop with nary a glance back at them. Only when she was out of sight did they take their seats again.

The young man who sat across the room watched all of this with great fascination. He still had the buds in his ears so he was deaf to the conversation, but he could feel the tension in the air.

He watched as the tall man and the pale woman huddled together, worry plain on their faces. He saw as the woman's lips formed one word.

Doom.


	3. Chapter 3

"She will not help us," Morgana was on the verge of tears. "She will see us burn."

The word did not bring out the best of memories for both of them.

"I did the same once," Merlin whispered. "I stood by and watched her pyre."

He buried his face in his hands. He had done many great things through the ages, and to this age, his name was still synonymous with all things good and just and fair. But Merlin knew that was not enough. He had failed the one person who mattered the most, and now he would pay the price.

"I do not blame her," Morgana said. "What we ask is impossible."

She started to wring her pale hands. Helplessness was something Morgana was not used to; it often brought out the worst in her.

"We ask too much of her, Merlin," she regarded the warlock beside her. "She will not yield."

"Because she will be the only one to survive this," Merlin said the one thing both of them refused to acknowlege before. "The Queen will survive this purge."

"And we will burn," Morgana whispered as tears fell from her eyes.

Morgana closed her eyes and willed herself to be calm. Almost immediately, her mind traveled to places she cared not to visit any more. Once again, she felt the wrath, the envy, the hate bubble up inside her and Morgana saw how she had foisted them onto a woman who did not deserve it. Her mind made her remember every lie, every falsehood, every weapon she had used to bring down the only person who had ever been faithful to her.

It was with great effort that she pulled herself back from the past. She looked down and saw that one of her small hands was enveloped by Merlin's. He gave it a small squeeze before letting go.

"Don't," he cautioned her. "Don't do it Morgana or it will swallow you whole."

She nodded and dabbed at her eyes with shaking fingers. Then she looked down at her watch.

"We have to go," she said as she stood up. "Arthur will be waiting for us."

Merlin smiled. However helpless the situation may be with the Queen, they were at least partly salvaged by the relationship they had with Arthur.

"Does he remember yet?" Merlin asked Morgana.

"No," she shook her head. "I've dropped cues, set the spells, and settled the charms in his office, but it will take time."

"I trust you," Merlin said as he looked Morgana in the eye.

"There was a time when you didn't," she whispered.

"And look how we are suffering for it." He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in regret.

"We have time," Morgana said as she grasped his hand.

Merlin looked at the woman before him and shook his head.

"We don't. We only have this lifetime left."


	4. Chapter 4

Morgana gave Merlin's hand one last squeeze as they exited the private elevator that led to Arthur Pendragon's office. They had left shortly after the Queen, taking the black town car that had been a perk from the man for whom they worked.

It was a short drive to the steel and glass building that was the Pendragon headquarters, and it was traveled without a word said between the two of them. It was only when they were about to enter Arthur's office that Morgana spoke.

"This is always the hardest part for me," she said before schooling her features into the cool and detached expression that had become her trademark.

"It's different now, Morgana," Merlin straightened his tie. "As far as Arthur's concerned we're completely harmless."

They exchanged another glance and Merlin raised his hand to knock at the door. Three raps, a pause, and then a voice bid them to enter.

Both witch and warlock squared their shoulders as Merlin opened the door, motioning for Morgana to go before him.

Arthur Pendragon stood behind an expansive desk. His coat was off and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up his arms. One hand was shoved inside a trouser pocket, and the other was flipping through papers that were scattered on his desk.

Arthur looked up and saw that they were now standing in front of his desk.

"Right on time," he said after looking at the watch on his wrist. "It's almost magic how you two arrive on the dot every time."

"We do as we're told," Merlin said, his hands clasped in front of him.

Morgana glanced at the man beside her. She knew that his magic bubbled to the surface every time he was near Arthur or Guinevere. She was the same, it was how they found the King and Queen through the ages.

"That you do," Arthur said, a slight smile on his lips as he rubbed his jaw with one hand. "So, tell me. Have you secured the permits?"

"All but one," Morgana reached into her pocket and took out a business card. "Leodegrance refuses to sell."

Arthur took the card and looked at it with cool disdain.

"Thomas Leodegrance," he said slowly. "He owns that small repair shop, doesn't he?"

Merlin nodded. "We've spoken to him and his daughter. They're not budging."

"I'll take care of this," Arthur pocketed the card and turned his attention again to the pair still standing before him. "How are things?"

Morgana and Merlin exchanged a glance.

"What do you mean, Mr. Pendragon?" Morgana's voice was calm and even.

As far as Arthur knew, they were lawyers employed by Pendragon, Inc. They were the best damned lawyers in the legal department, and naturally, worked closest with the boss.

"You two haven't taken a day off since you started working for me, what? Three years ago?" Arthur said. "You arrive at eight-thirty in the morning every day, take your breaks on the dot, and leave at six in the evening."

He raised an eyebrow at them.

"You arrive together, take your breaks together, and leave together," Arthur's hands were now on his hips. "Are you two married?"

The ghost of a smile bowed Morgana's lips. She and Merlin knew this would eventually come up and they had prepared for it.

"Morgana and I are practically siblings, Mr. Pendragon," Merlin answered smoothly. "My grandfather was her godfather and he took care of both of us after our parents died."

"My apologies," Arthur was taken aback. "I did not know that."

"It's not something one brings up with one's employees, sir," Morgana said.

"And that," Arthur pointed at Morgana. "Why do you talk like that?"

"Like what, sir?"

"Why the 'sir' and why so formal?"

"Does it bother you, Mr. Pendragon?"

"No, not really. It's just," Arthur searched for the right word. "It's unusual, that's all."

He then ran a hand through his hair, and suddenly pressed his fingers to his temples. His eyes shut tightly.

"Is anything wrong Mr. Pendragon?" Merlin asked cautiously. Could it be?

"No," Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes still closed tight. "I just haven't been sleeping well and I've been getting these headaches because of it."

Morgana walked over to one of the carved oak side tables in the office and withdrew a small pill case from one of the drawers. She shook out a tablet still inside a blister pack, then poured water from a glass decanter into a crystal tumbler. She walked over to Arthur and handed these to him.

"Take this," she pressed the pill and the glass of water to the man who was in obvious pain.

"Thanks," Arthur swallowed the medicine with a swig of water. "You didn't have to do that, Ms. Fay."

"It was no bother," Morgana's voice was calm, not betraying the glee that was bubbling up inside her. It was starting to work!

Arthur looked at his watch again.

"I want to meet Thomas Leodegrance tomorrow," he said. His voice strong and forceful once again. "The sooner this is sorted out, the better off we'll all be."

"It's Saturday tomorrow, Mr. Pendragon," Merlin reminded him.

"Which means that I will not be bothered by anything or anyone else," Arthur's eyes bored into Merlin, daring him to say any more.

"Of course, Mr. Pendragon," Merlin gave the slightest of bows. He remembered how mercurial Arthur's temper can be, just one of the many things about the King that didn't change over the ages.

"Tell Geoffrey to set it for 10 in the morning," Arthur said, referring to his personal assistant. "Remind him to phrase it so that Mr. Leodegrance will expect me at his shop at that time."

"Very well, Mr. Pendragon," Merlin said. "Anything else?"

"Take the rest of the day off," he told both lawyers. "I'm about to go home as well. This headache is getting worse."

With a wave of his hand that indicated that they had been dismissed, Merlin and Morgana made their way out of the office. They kept quiet until they were inside the elevator.

"The charms are working," Merlin said to Morgana.

Morgana nodded. "We can expect him to start having the visions soon."

Merlin was quiet for a moment.

"He will not be happy when he remembers," he said to his companion.

"Arthur will be easy enough to deal with," Morgana's voice was confident. "It was his promise that brought him here."

Merlin didn't argue with that.

"It is the Queen all of us should be afraid of," Morgana said quietly. "She will not be happy to see him so soon, and with having no idea about who she is."

"We have no choice," Merlin said sadly. "We only have..."

"This lifetime. I know."


	5. Chapter 5

It was a short walk from the coffee shop to the park where Guinevere was now sitting. She had been on the bench for what must have been an hour, but not seeing nor hearing what was going on around her.  
  
She had agreed to meet Merlin and Morgana after being bothered by them for days. They said it was of "great importance," and while she cared little about what was urgent to them, she was curious about what this matter was.  
  
Guinevere lifted her face to the sky and let the late afternoon sunlight warm her skin. Then let her mind carefully wander back to a few years before.  
  
She had been having strange dreams for the longest time. Dreams that didn't always make sense, but there were things that she always saw in them. There was a tall, pale man with eyes that flashed gold, a woman with raven hair and green eyes that turned into molten copper whenever she looked at her, and a very, very handsome man with golden hair and the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen.  
  
In the dreams she was a princess, a warrior, a maiden, or a servant. She saw herself carrying a sword, brandishing a bow, holding court over a room full of nobles, or holding hands with the blonde man. She would smell lavender and green fields and metal. She would feel warm and safe and so very, very loved in the man's embrace.   
  
But then as the months went by, her dreams turned into nightmares.  
  
She began to dream of castles burning, of death and blood, and of so much pain. She would dream of children dying in her arms, of being taken against her will, of being abandoned, and of being imprisoned. In the most horrible nightmares, she dreamt of being tied to a stake and being burned alive. Guinevere would wake up from these nightmare with a scream still about to burst from her throat and she would rush into the bathroom and turn on the shower, amazed that her skin was not blistered and charred from the fire.  
  
It was right about this time that she began to notice a tall, pale man and a raven-haired woman following her as she walked around town.  
  
Guinevere remembered the first time they sat down at her table in the coffee shop and introduced themselves to her. Merlin and Morgana. Old-fashioned names that struck a chord deep inside her; she had been so afraid that she ran all the way back to her apartment.  
  
That night, as she settled into a bath to help her soothe her nerves, the memories started flooding her. And she remembered.  
  
After the visions had subsided, Guinevere sat in the bath with her arms around her knees, rocking herself until the memories stopped and her tears had ebbed. She didn't know how she got out of the tub and into her bed, but for the first time in months, she had no dreams.  
  
She remembered waking up the next day and walking to the coffee shop where she found Merlin and Morgana seated at what she had come to think of as her "spot." She sat down with them, told them she remembered everything, and asked what they wanted.  
  
That day they started calling her their Queen.  
  
They said that they wanted forgiveness, absolution, from the sins of the past.  
  
It took all of Guinevere's self-control not to break down and tear at her hair from the pain of it all.  
  
Instead she told them that if she had to live with this pain, then so should they. She would not forgive them for the misery she endured for centuries. She would not forget the lies and the destruction and the blood they spilled to save him and damn her.  
  
Him. Arthur. The King. Albion.  
  
Guinevere sighed and shook her head clear of the memories of centuries past. She picked up her handbag and started to walk home. She would not think about Arthur anymore.  
  
She reached her apartment and made her way to the bathroom to run her nightly bath. Then she walked over to the counter of her sink and began preparing her ritual of repentance. She put water in a shallow porcelain dish for the journey, lit a candle for guidance, and floated a sprig of rosemary on the water for remembrance.   
  
She could do nothing more for all the innocents lost over the ages, but she always hoped that the intention of her humble tribute was received well.   
  
"Forgive me," she said to no one and everyone. _For failing you when I should have been stronger._  
  
Guinevere then walked to the tub, put in a few drops of lavender oil and waited until the scent permeated the room. She took of her clothes and sank into the warm water, not caring that she hadn't put her hair up in its customary bun.  
  
She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax, but the thought of what Morgana had said earlier rang in her head.  
  
"Albion will fall."  
  
What did she mean by that?


End file.
